Group Therapy
by Angst-Ridden-Teenager2468
Summary: They really are a messed up group, aren't they? Laughs abound. I know CC wouldn't torture her characters so. But I would! 1st Place for Best Comedy/Parody at The 2009 Mortal Instruments Fan Fiction Awards.
1. In Spite of It All

**A/N at bottom**

"Valentine's on the loose, wreaking havoc, Downworlders are dying by the bucketful... and you want us to do group therapy?" Alec's voice rang through the Institute's main hall

"Yes," replied Maryse calmly. Clary couldn't fully comprehend the older woman's calm behavior. Her statement that they'd be taking group therapy had ignited several reactions - and most of them explosive.

"I'm not going," Alec said, his voice like flat soda; not as liable to fizz, yet containing crackles of energy under the surface.

"Oh yes you are. It seems all this family has been about lately is slaying demons and tracking down Valentine." Maryse's voice faltered slightly on the name 'Valentine' but she quickly covered the slip up with a broad smile. Too broad. It was the sort of expression one gave when a dentist instructed you to smile, in order for your teeth to receive a proper assessment.

"I've already set the appointment up. It's with a Doctor Folchart."

"A mundie?" Isabelle's jaw dropped.

"A highly qualified one," added her mother, opening the door. The city air blew in, bringing with it the smells that were as much apart of New York as the Statue of Liberty and traffic.

"We're going to be thrown into the crazy house," moaned Clary, anticipating the therapist's reaction to their familial problems.

"I believe the correct term is funny farm," Jace said darkly. The collar of his jacket was flicked up to defend him against the cold air.

"Aren't the Clave summoning us to Idris? We have no time for a shrink," Isabelle persisted. Her mother started striding down the street, and as if by some invisible leash, the small cluster of teenagers followed.

"The whole family's going. That's final." Maryse's voice was like steel under a cover of silk. "The whole family's going. I have you four put in for everyday this week, and the rest of us -"

"I'm not technically apart of the family," interrupted Clary, straining to keep pace with Maryse's long strides. The Mrs. Lightwood wore high heels that looked capable of serious injury. _Like mother, like daughter_, Clary thought. "So I don't have to come-"

"If I have to suffer, you will with me," Jace warned, grabbing his sister's arm. She weaseled out from under his touch. "Siblings stick by each other. But me on the other hand, " he continued, turning back to Maryse. "I don't need a shrink telling me how messed up I am. I already know I'm messed up. Chick's dig that."

"Sometimes I wonder whether I raised you right, Jonathan."

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~--~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-"Doctor Folchart will see you now." The secretary's voice was far too quiet after the shouted words of earlier in the afternoon.

Jace, Isabelle, Alec, and Clary shuffled into the conference room. The latter three settled onto a cream-colored sofa, from which the therapist's chair was placed kitty corner, while Jace bounded around the room, inspecting the plaques placed on the wall.

Alec was fidgeting. "I'm supposed to meet Magnus in an hour," he murmured softly to Isabelle, careful for Jace not to hear.

"We'll get you out of here in time. Just -"

"God, I bet you he got this one of the Internet," said Jace, holding up a certificate he'd snatched off the wall. " 'Degree in Phy-"

"I can assure you it's real." The door clicked behind the therapist as she walked into the room. She wore nondescript clothing that matched her office perfectly, a string of pearls hanging from her neck. Her hair was a sandy blonde.

"Please, sit down." She gestured toward the couch where the others were sitting. "You must be Jonathan Christopher. I'm Doctor Nicole Folc-"

"Listen, Doc. Tell us how long my adoptive mother told us this session had to last, and then we'll be gone. Better yet, tell us what's the quickest way out of here?"

"I'm afraid I can't let you go. Clarissa Fray, Isabelle Lightwood, Alec Lightwood," Folchart nodded in turn as they all indicated who they were. Jace remained untamed, peering down the window to the streets below.

"I'd chance the window," he said.

"Please, Mr. Jonathan-"

"Jace-"

"Sit down."

"No."

"Well, then, feel free to jump out the window." Folchart gazed down at him through her glasses.

"We don't want that, do we Jace," Isabelle frantically intervened, yanking on his elbow, bringing him over to the group.

"Speak for yourself," Clary mumbled. The therapist eyed her warily for a moment, then jotted something down on her pad of paper.

"What did you write?" drawled Jace.

"If you please, we can begin with the -"

" 'Tension between one another, probably due to newfound relation. Possible _sexual_ tension? ' What the hell?!?" Jace had snatched the paper from the therapist's hands.

"Told you it was obvious," Isabelle muttered in Clary's ear.

"Your mother is paying me to help you all deal with your problems. As teenagers, it is to be expected for you to be experiencing aggression, mood swings -"

"This is going to be a long hour," groaned Jace.

"Not as long as you think." The Doctor grinned, a predatory expression. Leaning forward, she pressed a button on her desk that linked her to her secretary. "Please send in Mr. Bane, Miss Maia, and Mr. Lewis. "

**Ah, yes, the dread cliff-hanger. Due to the reviews for Church's Playmate that made me feel all warm and tingly - wow... my limited vocabulary amazes even myself at times - I have decided to start a sizable fan fic. This'll be about 10 chaps, but the updates will be all over the place. My own novel is practically sucking the life of me. I am currently experiencing the biggest chunk of writer's block concerning 'The Novel' so I decided to start this. I know it's riddled with errors, and the like, but I had fun doing it. More to come when I can and..... Is anyone else envisioning Jace being carried away in a strait jacket? ; )**

**Review = chapter**


	2. Diverge!

**Disclaimer: I completely forgot that I **_**forgot**_** this in the last one. I am pretty sure you intelligent people came to the conclusion that I wasn't Cassandra Clare, the fabulous inventor of CoB, CoA, and soon to be, CoG - my writing pretty much gave it away.**

**With out any further ado - or mindless babble from me - read away.**

**Also, I **_am_** aware that the character's reactions are extremely Ooc. Bear in mind that this is for fun, and I'm not trying to make this particularly deep. With my characters however, in the novel I'm working on, I can't seem to be able to insert this type of humor, when the dark humor is working up to an extreme. I just don't do fluffy - wow, see below. not- unless its with another author's characters.**

"Hello, dahhhh-ling!" exclaimed Magnus as he skipped into the room, his multi-colored coat fanning out behind him. Alec balked at the sight of the warlock.

"Magnus, I uh-"

"Words positively cannot describe how adorable you are when you're confused." Alec blushed, prompting Clary to realize that he was a firm contester with her for 'Most Embarrasable.'

Simon and Maia had been holding hands as they walked into the room. Clary averted her eyes, her gaze settling on Jace. Her brother - God, it felt uncomfortable even thinking the word - was viewing the whole scene through apparently closed eyes, though Clary could see his golden eyes, scanning the room like a cat's.

"Hey," Simon said softly, sitting down beside Clary. Maia did the same, though on her other side, causing Clary to squirm.

"What did you guys do to get in here?" asked Maia.

"Ask him." That Jace was who she was referring to was obvious. The blond boy ignored them. His sleeve was pulled up to his elbow, and he was idly drawing another mark on his skin, oblivious to Folchart, who was writing away. The doctor would scribble something down, look up at Jace, then continue writing.

They all froze as the door slammed open. Magnus was as still as a statue, his hands still combing through Alec's hair, the dark-haired boy looking mighty uncomfortable. The stele in Jace's hand disappeared.

"Sorry. Just need to borrow Doctor Folchart for a moment, if that's alright." The young woman was dressed inconspicuously in a charcoal pinstriped suit that covered her arms completely. Her hair, a shimmering white-blond that bordered on silver despite her young age, was coiled into a long braid that fell to her waist.

"Of course, Madeline. If you'll excuse us," said Folchart

The moment they were gone, a switch was turned on.

"Why the hell did you get us into this?" questioned Maia.

"Yeah, I've got better things to do!" added Simon

"Like what? Suck some blood?" Jace retorted.

"Jace! Be nice!" reprimanded Clary.

"Anything for you, sis. Wouldn't want to downsize the _sexual tension_ between us, would we now."

"WHAT?!?!?!" shrieked Simon, gaze flitting back and forth from a smug Jace to a red Clary, her cheeks blending in with her hair

"Magnus, you have to help us," pleaded Alec from across the room.

"Our mum put us in for _everyday_ this week!" added Isabelle.

Magnus only shook his head ruefully and said, "Did I mentioned how adorable you look when you're confu-"

"YES!!!" screamed the siblings.

" 'Sexual tension' ?" Simon asked incredulously, his arm waving in the air, banging into a glass vase. He took no notice.

"Why would you care? You're dating Maia, aren't you?" Clary hissed back. As if reminded that the werewolf was there, Jace turned to Maia and asked, "How's the scotch at the Hunter's Moon? Still pure crap?"

"You little bastard..."

"What? Got a thing for Freaky Pete? Defending 'your man' ?"

"LISTEN UP!" Magnus's voice boomed across everyone's heads, enhanced by some magic. Clary shot a look at the door, hoping that no one had heard and would come to investigate.

"Do any of you want that human -"

"Mundie," interrupted Jace.

"Homo sapiens is the correct term," Simon said, his attempt at sarcasm falling short.

"Why? We're not all homos. Only Alec, and -"

"I think Magnus was trying to say something!" Alec glared at Jace with eyes that spelled death in them.

"Do any of you want this human meddling in your affairs?"

No was the -more than- mutual answer.

"But you want your problems dealt with, don't you?"

"What problems?" Isabelle looked genuinely confused. The rest simply looked at their feet, not answering.

"When I look around this room, I see a James Bond-esque lothario wannabe-"

"Who the hell is James Bond?" asked Jace.

"You really are out-of-touch," speculated Clary.

" -a vampire who thinks he's human-"

"I resent that," Simon pointed out.

" - a Nephilim who-"

"We get your point," Alec hastily said. "Just tell us what you mean by it."

"You all have problems. So I'm proposing that we have this therapist help us. BUT-" Magnus quickly added the word in before everyone could voice their outrage at the suggestion. "But, I shall simply alter her memory afterwards. She'll help you, forget about you, and -"

"Can't you just make her forget we came here today and let us go?" "Jace, I think we should say yes," Clary said softly. Jace's brow furrowed, as he tried to inspect his sister's expression, but her eyes were trained on her hands in her lap.

"Thank you, plant-girl," Magnus graciously said. "Now whose in favor of my brilliant idea of wiping her memory?"

"This isn't a Harry Potter novel," mumbled Simon. Clary stilled his words with a single silent glance.

Grudgingly, Simon's hand went up, after Clary's did. Not to be outdone, Jace stood up, both hands shooting up in the air like sprouts, casting the vampire a disdainful smirk.

"Isabelle? Maia? Alec?" The remaining girls nodded slowly, looking at the others with tentative glances.

"Alec?" The Shadowhunter didn't meet his lover's gaze. Magnus sighed, all of the glittery, jazzed-up, energy he seemed to thrive on riding out on that single breath.

Then Alec murmured something under his breath.

"What's that?" An inkling of hope darted onto Magnus's face.

"I'll do it." A smile spread across the warlock's face, the love in his eyes the most powerful type of magic Clary had ever seen.

Before anyone could protest, or ask how Magnus would accomplish such a feat, Doctor Folchart came back in.

"What on Earth happened?" she said, eyeing the ruined vase.

"Sorry," mumbled Simon, darting down to retrieve the shattered pieces of glass, his hands moving far too fast. Before the therapists could say anything -which she seemed on the verge of doing -, Magnus snapped his fingers. Folchart's eyes rolled into the back of her head, revealing the whites, as she fell backwards with a muted thump onto the carpet behind the couch. Jace looked back behind the couch, and asked lazily, "Anyone going to get her?"

Magnus hooked his hands under the woman's armpits, dragging her out in the centre of the office. He checked her pulse, with his jacket fanning out on the floor like bat wings. Then, with a wave of his arm, Folchart's eyes started to flutter open.

"What is it with him and hand actions?" muttered Simon.

"Well, he's probably very well acquainted with his hands," responded Jace, smirking. Magnus pretended not to hear him.

"Why am I on the floor?" asked the therapist. Her hair was rumpled in the back, completely out of place with the rest of her put together outfit. Her eyes were unfocused, as if in a trance

Magnus ignored her question. He reached into one of his pocket's, and withdrew a small vial of shimmery liquid.

"Extra sparkle power?" asked Jace.

Magnus uncorked the drink, and handed it to the therapist, who hungrily drank it. Magnus quickly up righted her. When she next opened her eyes, they were clear and exacting.

"Sorry, seems I blacked out there a moment. Where were we?"

"You were going to do the chicken dance," drawled Jace, gazing out the window with ill-disguised longing.

"Very amusing, Jonathan. Now seeing as we have a rather extensive group here," she said, nodding towards the new additions, "I think we'll break it down, then converge together."

" 'Converge? That's a big wor-"

"You already used that line, Jace. Back at the church," Clary reminded him warily. Jace looked stunned.

"Could you used smaller language, please? His brain can't process it," said Simon, jerking his head towards Jace.

"Be careful, or I'll be forced to converge upon _you_, bloodsucker." The slang term went unnoticed by Folchart, whether it be her professionalism, or the potion Magnus had administered.

Clary swore she could almost see an evil twinkle in Doctor Folchart's eyes before she next spoke. No trace of her previous fainting spell was evident when she said, "Of course I can simplify it, Mr. Lewis. I shall be splitting you all into groups of two. Group therapy on a small scale. A duo willing to go first?" The room was silent, everyone hoping to deflect attention from themselves. Magnus was tugging on Alec's arm, but Alec was deliberately looking the other way, boring a hole into the wall near one of the doctor's plaques.

"Well, then. Will the rest of you please exit to sitting room? The first couple to go will be....."

**A/N: *maniacal laughter. MWAHWAHWAHMWAH! *dodges knife being sent through cyber space.**

**Now, now, this will actually be fun. It's the part where 'you as an audience can vote." On my profile I'll be putting up the basic couples who could be shunted into therapy with Folchart first... and then there will be some twisted combinations, shared only with myself until I see fit to release the chapters.**

**But remember, there's an entire world of Downworlders and Shadowhunters at my disposal... You never know who turns up in therapy - we all have dark secrets, just waiting to be revealed.**


	3. Author Note Don't Worry!

Sorry for psyching you with this - it's not the next chapter! That's currently being worked on - the 1st draft wasn't good enough, 2nd was pointless, I went back to the 1st started working on it again, tried the 2nd one again.. wasn't quite sure about it... went back to the 1st, and am currently three -quarters of the way through the final draft.

And that's the story of my life folks! Well, seriously I just wanted to put this up so you all knew that I hadn't pulled a Houdini and wasn't updating again. I am and I know exactly how many days it's been since I last updated (I'm not going to say; it's embarrassing.)

I'm hoping to get the next chapter out there by Friday - sorry about the delay. I've got an entire speech due tomorrow, one where I have to talk about this kid in my class who makes watching grass grow look eventful.

But, I CAN tell you whose being put into therapy first: ALEC AND MAGNUS!!! * fan girls scream then start crying when they realize that the session is going to be written in my horrible writing!

And, to help me, can you guys suggest some topics Folchart, the therapist, would go over with them? I have a few, but I'm not spoiling nothin'! Good to see my grammar's still intact.

That's it really. Sorry again about the delay!

-AngstRiddenTeenager2468

P.S. If you have time head over to the Mortal Instruments Awards 2009 Forum! I'm not saying to nominate me - though it would be nice : p -, but they seriously need nominations!


	4. Like Every Other Mundie Couple

**A/N: IT'S HERE! HAIL THE SHORT CHAPTER! HUZZAH!!!!!**

_"Well, then. Will the rest of you please exit to sitting room? The first couple to go will be_... Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane?" Folchart looked from Alec to Magnus, trying to find some link to the two, a sparkly, distinctly Asian man, and a shabbily dressed teenager.

"What?" shrieked Alec.

"I was notified that you two would be the ideal pair to start with,"said Folchart, her voice as complacent as tepid water.

"By whom?" asked Alec, his eyes narrowed. Folchart didn't respond to his question, merely shuffling her papers around on her clipboard, then saying to the others, "Can the rest of you please stay in the reception area until I'm finished with these two? Margaret will be there to tend to any of your needs." Folchart strode across the room to open the door for the rest of the group.

"Any?" Jace quirked his eyebrow suggestively, prompting Isabelle to punch him in the arm, hard.

"What? I have needs," he protested. He rubbed the spot where she'd hit him. "That's going to leave a bruise," he muttered.

"Jace, Izzy, please! Don't go," beseeched Alec, staring at his two siblings with daggers in his eyes. Isabelle considered him for a moment mockingly, then turned on her heel and scampered out of the room.

Someone, under their breath, muttered, "If there's anyone who needs counseling, it's Jace! I mean all that sarcasm, and he was abused as a child -"

"WHO SAID THAT?" roared Jace, turning around. Not locating who'd shouted out the offense, he turned on Alec, who was in front of him. Jace threw the dagger. Alec yelped and ducked in the nick of time. The blade embedded itself within the wall. Alec sat up slowly, gazing with horror at the trembling hilt of the blade.

"What the hell was that for?" he yelled.

"Anger management." Jace shrugged, in the lure of an apology

"Anger management, my a-"

"Gentlemen, please! Language" Folchart looked at the blade in her wall, blinked several times, then seemed to forget about it, her eyes glazing over.

"I think we _can _expect you next, Mr. Jonathan-"

"By the Angel, woman, that's not my name!" Jace protested.

"I'm beginning to think you're bipolar, Mr. _Jonathan_!"

Jace glared at the therapist. There was no way he was going to let this quack label him as 'crazy'. Then, realizing the worst way to punish Alec, he followed Isabelle out the door.

Before he closed the door behind him, a few words flew through into the office. "Have fun..." Alec could almost imagine the maniacal laughter that should've accompanied it.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

"So.." Folchart's pencil drummed out a rhythm against her clipboard. Her face betrayed no signs of impatience.

Alec gulped. "So?"

"So..."Folchart examined them both from behind her thin glasses. "So.."

"We're gay, if that's any help," Magnus offered, not at all affected by the tense atmosphere in the room.

"Magnus!" Alec hissed.

"No, no that helps, everything helps. I knew that of course, but-"

"I'm not gay," Alec insisted, shooting a pleading glance at Magnus though he was speaking to Folchart.

"Mr. Lightwood, according to my sources you've been seeing Mr. Bane here for a month, now. You'll have to admit the cat is out of the bag. "

"Well, then put it back in!"

"Oh, please don't! I love cats!" Magnus said. "I can always use another."

"You already have Chairman Meow, " Alec reminded him, the words slipping out through clenched teeth. His face contorted slightly with the recollection of a memory that involved two cats, a closet, and him and his sister being shunted into it.

"And you have Church," Magnus pointed out.

"And they have each other!" yelled a muffled voice from behind the door. Alec groaned, his suspicions of ongoing eavesdropping confirmed.

"The subject of cats discussed," Folchart overruled, "can we please move on." She had pointedly chose to ignore the eavesdropping.

"The sooner this is over, the better," mumbled Alec. Magnus looked at him painfully, the warlock's face was suddenly devoid of his normal quirky joy.

"Alec, you have to come to terms with this whole issue you have," Folchart said soothingly.

Alec glared at her, his dark blue eyes alit with anger. "You don't understand. If my parents knew about this, about -" Alec choked the word out -" us, they would disown me. I'd be stripped of my Marks, and -"

"But how do you know all of that would happen?" Folchart asked. She didn't seem surprised by any mentions of anything supernatural, probably something influenced by Magnus's potion.

"I can empathize,"Alec concluded, the set of his jaw stubborn.

Folchart sighed. She leaned forward and took her glasses off. Somehow her gaze seemed even more concentrated without her glasses.

"We'll take this step by ste-"

A loud bang emitted from behind the reception area's doors, followed by a muffled yell, distinctly male.

"Jace," said Alec in a dismissive tone. Folchart and Magnus shared a glance, detecting something in his voice he hadn't heard.

"What?"

"How long has it been going on?" Folchart asked Magnus sympathetically.

"I don't know. He hasn't told me. And, to tell the truth-" Magnus looked down at his ring-adorned fingers- "I don't think it really would do any good to know."

"Can someone please -" began Alec.

"How long have you known Jace?" Folchart asked, innocently enough.

"Since we were ten. Why?"

"And how long have you been in love with him?" Folchart stated bluntly. Alec blanched at the question. It took him a while to actually process what she was saying. When he did, a medley of words stuttered out of his mouth. Amidst the blabberingments (A/N: **New word, I call it!) **Folchart simply nodded empathically.

"Gotten it all out?" she asked, when he indeed seemed to have done so.

Alec sighed. He mumbled something under his breath.

"Pardon?" Folchart quirked an eyebrow. Magnus remained silent.

"Since I was thirteen. I guess." Alec's voice was hollow, and resigned.

Folchart looked satisfied. She leaned back in her chair, and asked, "Does he know?" She seemed to be focusing the session on Alec for the time being.

Alec regarded her with incredulous eyes. "No."

"Do you want to tell him?"

"Of course not! Why would I?"

"And that therefore leads me to believe that you really don't love him." With a flourish of her pen, Folchart flipped to another page on her clipboard. "It's the convenience and safety that you love."

"Jace is not safe," Alec deadpanned.

"It's safe to 'love' him. There's no risk. You never have to try your hand at a real relationship, or fully immerse yourself in one, because you can use Jace as an excuse. **(A/N: Those two fantastic lines are from gaymeninthetrenches's 'Deceptions & Seductions', a fanfic I highly recommend reading. I just switched the wording around slightly.)**You also know there's not a large chance at all of him returning your affection of sorts. And so you're safe from ever having to commit."

"Commitment is every man's weak point," Magnus quipped. Despite the forced lightness of his tone, how much this topic affected him showed just below his falsely composed expression of cheerfulness.

"It's not that I'm afraid to _commit_-" Alec spat the word from his mouth like it had a bad taste -"it's just that -"

"Am I right in assuming that you have some feelings for Magnus?"asked Folchart.

"Yeah," Alec mumbled

"Right. Because otherwise it would've made no sense for you to have engaged in such a relationship, if such a thing was something other than your usual cup of tea." Folchart scribbled something down on her sheet of paper.

"Isn't this supposed to be a duo session?" Alec muttered. "Why don't you ask Mag-"

"I'm focusing on you because the root of the main problem in your relationship seems to spring from you. Magnus has no prob-" Folchart cut herself off, remembering she was talking about a towering, shimmering man

who displayed an affinity for flamboyant clothes. She rephrased. "Magnus isn't the root of _this_ problem."

Magnus contemplated Folchart's uncompleted sentence for a moment. But he decided to let it pass.

"And really, it's just not fair to put Magnus in such a position. (**A/N: God, a hundred possible comments Jace could say to this are running through my mind.**) So until -"

"Wait -" Alec regarded the therapist through narrowed eyes, as though not quite seeing her. "Are you breaking up with me - Are you breaking us up?" He gestured towards him and Magnus. Something dangerous flickered in the Shadowhunter's expression.

Folchart shrugged impassively, as if she'd suddenly lost interest in this case.

"I see dozens of couples with this exact same problem every day - one of them is too hung up on a past love to focus on their current partner. And too selfish to let go of their current relationship. In most cases all that's needed is a clean break-"

Alec stood up, his hands clenched in fists at his side. "HOW DARE YOU!" He sounded angrier than he had when it had turned out that dragon demons were not fully extinct. "YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TELL US -"

Magnus got up in one swift movement, and laid a restraining hand on Alec's shoulder. The younger boy seemed calmed, however slightly, by the warlock's touch - no, by a lover's touch.

Alec took a deep breath, then looked up at Magnus, his eyes still narrowed. "We're leaving."

Magnus looked confused, trying to see if there was a hidden meaning behind those words - or, more to the point, if said meaning held an end.

"I don't want some quack trying to label us as a dysfunctional couple-" Magnus's eyes twinkled at the word - "I know we're crazy, and that I'm ridden with faults but -" he directed these next words at Folchart - "I'm working on it. I'm not taking 'a break' from this, unless that's what Magnus wants. Then I'd let it happen.

"Hell, if I hadn't found Magnus, I doubt I'd be anywhere near becoming any less selfish. So don't you dare -" Alec jabbed an accusing finger at Folchart -" Don't you dare say anything about something you don't know a thing about."

Alec exhaled roughly, letting go of the breath along with his words. A small smile played across Alec's lips as he gazed at Magnus.

And if Folchart had been in the least bit alarmed by her patient's outburst, she didn't show it at all. She seemed to be trying to suppress a smile, of all things.

She gazed up at the clock that hung on the wall, and said, "Oh, look at the time. I think it's time for the others to have a turn."

"Huh?" Alec's tone was confused. "But we're leav-" Clearly he thought he'd been deprived by a great exit.

"It's been a pleasure to talk to you both." Folchart got up, and shook Magnus's hand. The warlock was grinning brightly, as he said, "The pleasure's all mine."

She shook Alec's limp hand. The young boy looked utterly baffled that his outburst had been smoothed out so quickly.

"But I jus-" Magnus steered him towards the door.

"Oh, and please tell the other two siblings to come in, with Mr. Lewis," Folchart said.

"Sure," Alec said slowly, still not quite comprehending.

Once out in the reception area, Alec blinked rapidly several times. The others eyed the two warily, not approaching just yet.

"What just happened?" he asked Magnus, still in a daze.

The warlock ruffled the Shadowhunter's hair, beaming.

"Words _really_ cannot describe how adorable you are when you're confused."

**So there it is! Chapter 3! I know it's painfully short, but it honestly took me weeks to write - for my full excuse see my last post. It's not my best work AT ALL, and it's confusing, and I'm thinking about rewriting it when this entire story's done, but for now, it'll do.**

**At least for me. I'm pretty sure I'll have the next chap. up soon - I can at least guarantee that the wait won't be this long. **

**But now, with this chapter updated, I'm going to immerse myself in articles about memory and the effects reading and video games have on it - God, I hate crabby science teachers and their 'Lab Reports'. I can learn to love nice science teachers and **_**their**_ **lab reports. **

**However, I have something to look forward to, after the whole science fair crap is out of the way - Cassandra Clare's CoG tour is going to running through my city! And, Holly Black, according to the Mortal_Instruments google group, is going to be coming along, for the Canadian signings. **

**HA! I always knew that one day, after having dozens of authors not dare to venture up to Canada, that this would happen! Ahem. Done gloating.**

** Oh, and in off-topic news, slightly, I'm almost done a quick drabble I have, and am planning to release it in a new fashion. Please read it, when it comes out, if you have the time to.**

**Hope you're all well,**

**AngstRiddenTeeenager2468**


	5. Luke I am your father'

**Disclaimer: I am not Cassandra Clare. I am not Cassandra Clare. *sniffles**

**A/N: No, I'm not dead. Merely busy. I am extremely sorry for the long abscence. I vaguely remember saying something about earlier updates.**

**Ha. That's a joke for the books.**

**I suddenly woke up today and realized that CoG is coming out IN FOUR FREAKIN' DAYS! So much for 'Drip Drop Drabbles' having 10 or so stories before March 24th.**

**Now, I command you to read! **

**Please?**

Clary's eyes flickered up as the office door swung open.

She had been doodling absentmindedly with a note pad and pen that had the therapist's name emblazoned on the top.

She refrained herself from doodling anything of real significance, especially any runes. Indeed, Jace would look over her shoulder every so often, prompted by Isabelle, to make sure Clary hadn't drawn any.

Alec and Magnus emerged from Folchart's office, the former looking dazed. Clary heard them talking, too low to discern actual words.

Then they started walking towards the others, Magnus's high-watt smile shining brightly.

Alec settled down beside his sister, as he said, "They want you two next," looking from Clary to Jace.

With a heavy sigh, Clary got up, placing the note pad on her seat. Jace, on the other hand, projected no intention of ever moving from the low-slung sofa where he was sprawled, let alone attending his therapy session. He had yet another seraph dagger out, this one shorter, about the size of Clary's hand. The secretary, Margaret, had been shooting him glances for the past fifteen minutes or so, and not because of his 'astonishingly good looks', as Jace would phrase them. Margaret had probably seen her fair share of crazies, who could cause damage without weapons. But here was one, armed, whistling a ironically cheerful tune - Jace probably made the top of the list.

Clary kicked Jace's leg. "It's our turn."

'Despite how much you want to be alone with me, my beloved sister, I have no desire to ever setting foot in that office again, primarily because I value my sanity."

"What sanity?" mumbled Simon, as Alec said, "We went."

"Well, I don't have problems like you do," Jace remarked, brushing away a non-existent speck of dirt from the handle of the seraph dagger. "Let the mundie go in -that should keep Folchart busy for a long, long time. During which we can make our escape."

"I'll tell Mom," warned Isabelle, obviously relieved that she hadn't been called for the next session.

"And I'll tell my dad. Which one is scarier, do ya think?"

Alec and Isabelle exchanged a look with one another, then with Magnus. Jace looked smug, like a cat that had just eaten an entire vat of cream, thinking that playing the 'father' card had worked.

Magnus lazily waved a hand in Margaret's direction, and the secretary's gaze fell out of focus. Then, with the effortless grace unfairly bestowed upon almost all Shadowhunters, Alec and Isabelle got up, locked their hands under Jace's arms, and dragged him off the couch.

Jace protested loudly, kicking and flailing. The dagger dropped from his hands, though that wasn't stopping him from trying to fight against his adoptive siblings' grips.

"Damn, it, let go of me, you -"

Clary had opened the door to Folchart's office, and Alec and Isabelle swung Jace onto the couch there. He sat up with a huff, and straightened his clothing out, before giving the siblings the finger. Simon shot Clary a sympathetic look, and a wary one at Jace, right before the door slammed shut.

"You seem to have a flair for dramatic entrances," remarked Folchart, from her seat behind her desk. Jace glared at her with a fury that Hell could envy, as Clary sat down a foot down the couch from him.

"So, you two are siblings, correct?" Folchart asked, as she spread open two files on her desk.

Clary nodded grudgingly, as Jace muttered, "The family resemblance should have given it away."

"Would you rather I call you Clarissa, or Clary? It says here that it's your preferred name." She motioned to the contents of the files that weren't visible.

"Clary is fine."

"Alright. And Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern." Folchart grudgingly looked toward her other patient. "Which do you go by Jonathan, or Christopher?"

"Jace." His chin jutted upwards defiantly. "And my last name is Wayland."

"I'd rather you'd pick one of the two. And it says here that your _real _last name is Morgenstern." (**A/N: I know it makes next to zero sense that Folchart would insist upon calling Jace by his full name, while she has no such problems with Clary. But I personally think she does it just to spite him!)**

He didn't respond. "Jonathan it is then. Clary, I think I was told, is an artist. Do you have any similar pursuits or aspirations, Jonathan?"

"I like to kill things. I find joy in ripping pages out of books, setting fire to buildings, kicking old ladies, and drowning puppies. One day I aspire to dominate the world by contaminating its water supply, and unleashing all of New York's rodents to terrorize innocent citizens." Somehow, he managed to say all of this with a straight face.

For such a speech, Folchart wrote only a few lines down onto her notepad, much like the one Clary had been doodling on back outside. However, Clary noticed that she'd already used several pages.

"Now, am I correct in believing that you two only learnt about the other's existence quite recently."

"A month ago, about," Clary supplied.

"But whose counting?" Jace said.

"And who told you?" asked Folchart, her gaze on Clary.

"Our father."

"And you never met this man before?" Folchart's eyes probed Clary's uncomfortably.

"Well, Jace was raised by him." Clary broke free from Folchart's gaze, trying to deflect the attention to Jace.

It worked. Folchart asked him, "And your father never told you about the fact that you had a sister out there?"

"No."

"Did you ever wonder?"

"No."

"Did he tell you anything about your mother?"

"No. Other than that I was better off without her."

Turning back to Clary, Folchart asked, "Your mother raised you?"

"Yeah."

"Here in New York?"

"Yeah."

"As a single mother?"

"Yeah."

"What did she tell you about your father?"

"That he'd served in the army, and died in a car crash before I was born."

"Did you wonder what he was like?"

"Yeah."

Folchart leaned back in her chair, seemingly done playing _20 Questions_. She had been writing down notes and observations on her notepad, enough, probably, to start-off another college psychology thesis report. She steepled her fingers together. She looked at the two teenagers sitting on the couch in her office, polar opposites in more ways than one.

Directed at both of them, she asked, "Why do_ you _think do you think that the existence of your sibling and other parent was kept from you? Was there a messy divorce?"

"No, actually," Jace said, tone mild,"nothing but ravenous hordes of blood-thirsty demons could keep them apart."

"I think it was a mutual decision," Clary optioned to say as an alternative.

"Right. Now, Jonathan, I think it was mentioned that you were abused as a child. Is this true?"

"I'm going to murder whoever said that."

"Yes, you already mentioned your affinity for killing. However, sidetracking will not help the problem. Were you abused as a child?"

"Yes. By your mom."

"Humor will get your nowhere, Mr. Morgenstern. Sarcasm is almost always a cover-up for some deeper pain."

"I'll make you feel pain, if you don't shut up. And my last name **is Wayland**."

"I understand that the pain that accompanies your identity, that of Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, might be something you'd want to forget, but making up another name, and identity is not the way to go. Bipolaria is a very serious situation, one that most people get themselves into almost intentionally."

Clary could see Jace's hand twitching, just aching to grab one of the many weapons she knew he had hidden somewhere.

"My father told me that my name was Jonathan Christopher _Wayland_. Not Morgenstern."

Folchart looked mildly surprised. "You were raised thinking that your name was Wayland?"

"No, the magical unicorns came to me and threatened to spear me with their horns unless I called myself Jace Wayland."

"I'm taking that as a yes." The scratch of her pen intensified, as it started to run out of ink. Folchart opened a drawer in her desk, and grabbed another, setting the old one aside.

"And where is your father now?" Folchart asked Clary, turning back to her after the long conversation with Jace, from which Clary had been happy to be a bystander to.

"Um... on..sabbatical..." Clary could hit herself. Jace hid a smirk.

Folchart raised her eyebrows. "Is he a professor?"

"Um....... no?" Her voice cracked at the end.

Folchart looked confused. "Sabbaticals are used to refer to periods of paid leaves for college professors."

"Well, he's something of an expert on demonology, and weaponry." Jace was silently laughing, his shoulders shaking with suppressed hysterics.

"Ahh. And your mother?"

This was something Clary could answer. "She's in a coma. Staying at the Beth Israel Hospital."

"Since when?" Hopes that Folchart would think a comatose parent's situation too personal to delve into, vanished.

"A month ago."

"Rather around the time you two found out about your relation." Neither Clary or Jace - who'd finally stopped shaking - spoke. Folchart stared at them long and hard, then said, "How did you meet each other?"

"At a party," Clary said. Why the hell wasn't Jace helping out?

"Did you go together?"

"No," Clary said, tone cautious. Jace was eyeing Folchart with similar heedfulness.

"So you two were not romantically involved prior to obtaining knowledge of the fact that you were related?"

"What? No!" Clary blurted out, at the same time that Jace muttered, "Just let me kill her already."

Folchart didn't look particularly convinced, but she did not push the subject any further, just as she had done with the topic of abuse and others.

"You and Simon are good friends, aren't you Clary?"

"Yes."

"Then you wouldn't mind if he could come in, would you?"

"No..No!"

"Margaret, please send in Mr. Lewis," Folchart told her secretary on the intercom.

"God, not the mundie," Jace moaned.

The therapist was immune to their discomfort. By this point, Clary was beginning to think that the pleasant blonde woman she'd originally pegged Folchart to be, was actually one of those shape-shifting demons, wearing a particularly thick disguise, and that needed to be destroyed by the Shadow Trio.

The door opened, and Simon strode in slowly. Clary had seen the expression he now wore on his face prior to that day. Simon had once been called to the principal's office, and he had been scared to death that it was because of something bad he had done, when really it had just been about a remarkable English paper he'd written that the principal wanted to display in the library.

He settle down beside Clary, between her and Jace. Though Clary knew it killed him to sit beside Jace, though he was probably only doing so to separate them.

"Thank you for joining-"

A blur of silver whizzed by Simon's head, sent through the air by Jace. The weapon spun back into Jace's open palm, which he closed before Clary could see what it was.

"Nice to see you two. Miss me?" asked Simon

"I couldn't sit still, for the memory of your hands on me," Jace drawled.

"Jackass."

"Bitch."

"_Blond!"_

"Language, gentlemen!" Folchart had jumped up upon the use of a weapon inside her office. It seemed like Magnus's spell was wearing off slightly, for she hadn't minded last time.

"Jonathan, please remove all weapons from your person."

Jace didn't seem to fully understand her order. "What, here?"

"Yes. Here. NOW."

Not completely certain whether to be amused, or _be_mused, Jace laid down the weapon he'd used on Simon on the coffee-table. It was a _kindjal_, the spinning star that Hodge had been fond of. Luke had probably given it to him,'

Out from under his cuffs came several seraph daggers, and a traditional silver one, inlaid with golden detailing. Clary saw him push his stele further up the wrist cuffs, though, instead of surrendering it.

"There." He held his hands up.

"Take your boots off."

"What should I strip off next? My pants?" he sneered.

"Boots."

Grudgingly, Jace shook of his black boots. Out came enough small, handheld weaponry to power a war between rival gangs for years. Clary couldn't identify most of it, though she was pretty sure that it was illegal to be caring most of it, even in America.

Satisfied, with her excessive notes of the spectacle, and convinced that Jace was no weapon free, she nodded for him to sit down. He tugged his boots back on harder than needed, fuming.

"NOW, Mr. Lewis," Folchart said, turning to Simon, who'd been chuckling during Jace's humiliation. "I see that you and Clary have been friends since you were five. How did you feel about the discovery of Jace?"

"How do you '_see' _all this?" Jace asked of Folchart, quick to regain his confidence(pride), again. "It's not like you're the Big Guy up there, is it."

"You don't believe in God," Clary reminded him.

"That's not the point."

"Actually, particular cases of atheism can affect a person's outlook on life, so much so that they just want to end their own, to let the dark of nothingness they believe awaits, envelop them," Folchart explained.

"Well, this is getting particularly emo," remarked Simon.

"Has Jace ever expressed any reckless behavior, any rash, devil-may-care, attitude? Suicidal tendencies?"

Simon and Clary exchanged a glance.

"Now that you mention it, that window is looking particularly tempting," Jace said with a bit too real wistfulness.

The therapist's hand _must_ be aching like hell, Clary thought, after such

excessive writing. But, no, she just kept on going, without even looking at the page.

Folchart turned her attention to Simon, his and Clary's reaction to her question about Jace's 'suicidal' tendencies answer enough.

"Thank you for being so patient Mr. Lewis. As I was saying, how did you react when you found out about Jace's relation to Clary."

"Oh, I was jumping for joy. I mean, he's just so kind and caring and gorgeous." Simon took on an air of besottedness **(A/N: My new word of the chapter!)** one usually associated with Twilight fan girls.

"Sorry. I'm on the straight and narrow. And you are not my type. Though you can ask Alec and Magnus if they wouldn't mind having a threesome," Jace offered.

"I see sarcasm is something of a hobby for all of you." Folchart remarked.

"More like an occupation," said Jace, "and it pays better than all this shrink stuff you do."

Folchart seemed not to hear him. She asked Simon, "Did you learn about Jonathan's relation to Clary about the same time that Clary did?

Simon nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. "Yeah, about a month ago. According to Clary it was this whole 'Luke, I am your father,' scene."

"What? Valentine is Luke's father, too?" Jace raised a single blond eyebrow. A thought flashed across his face, and his expression turned pensive. Slowly, he said, "Actually, come to think of it, that makes so much sense!"

"Don't be stupid, Jace!" Clary punched him.

"You see!" Jace exclaimed, pointing at Clary. "I'm not the only one who has problems. She obviously has anger issues."

"She is a red-head," mused Simon, "and they're supposed to be fiery. But I'm pretty sure it's genetic."

Clary punched Simon this time, who yelped and said, "That actually hurt."

Jace smirked. "That's what she said."

The red light on Folchart's phone started to blink, signifying that Margaret was calling in on the intercom. Folchart held a finger up to indicate that she was picking the phone up.

"Yes Margaret?..What?.. Why?... I am in the mid-"

"AUNTIE!" A teenager girl came bounding into the room, an aghast Margaret following in her wake. She smelled strongly of bubblegum and vanilla, and was wearing clothes that were a bit too bright, washing out the pale skin of her thin frame.

"Sorry and all, auntie, but I, like, need you to sign this, 'cuz my teacher is not, like, going to let me-"

"Amelie, I'm in the middle of a session,' Folchart said, rounding about her desk. "Jonathan, Simon, and Clary here are -"

Amelie's eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. The wad of bubblegum she'd been chewing popped out of her mouth, like it would out of a machine, landing on the floor.

"Eh. Ma. Gawd. IT'S JACE WAYLAND!!!!!!!!!!!" Amelie took upon the countenance of the Twilight fan girl that Simon had been imitating earlier.

"Actually, his name is Jonathan Morgen-"

"OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG! You are like the hawtest guy ever!!!! The way you are always wearing black is just sooooo unbelievably hot, and the demon slaying - sooooo sexy! You could kick Edward Cullen's ass ANYTIME" She started fanning herself with the slip of paper she'd brought in for her aunt to sign.

Jace was smirking widely, not at all concerned about how Amelie knew him.

Clary, on the other hand was slightly disturbed by the arrival of this girl who seemed to know everything about Jace. However, she was more concerned about whether or not Amelie would need a paper bag soon. She was next to hyperventilating.

"AND SIMON!" Jace looked miffed that the attention had been deflected from him to the other boy. "Ehmagawd, you went all Edward Cullen-y in the last book! I could NAWT believe it! And TRUST ME, you two," Amelie said, looking from Jace to Clary, "you are definitely not related. The book is coming out in only FOUR DAYS!!!!!! AND I AM SOOOOO, LIKE, CERTAIN THAT YOU ARE NOT RELATED!!!"

Clary was contemplating the possibility of Amelie having consumed drugs prior to her entering the room.

"Amelie, stop disturbing my patients, and give me what you need to be signed," demanded Folchart.

"Uh-uh, I want Jace to sign it."

"Margaret, please take my niece down to the deli across the street."

The timid secretary led the protesting girl out of the room. Though, as she emerged into the sitting area, Clary could her hear Amelie yell, "NO SHIT! IT'S ALEC AND MAGNUS! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

After a moment, Folchart made to follow them, sighing. "I'm extremely sorry, but I think I have to deal with this now. She's highly excitable, and there's a Starbucks right beside the deli. Coffee is the last thing she needs right now. Anyway, I think I have enough from our session. While I'm gone, the rest of you can decide who can come in next."

With that, she was gone.

**A/N: Surprisingly enough (or not so much) it was really easy to write Amelie - I just had to channel my inner Jace-fan girl, and my excitement for Tuesday. And don't think you would not have acted the exact same way if you saw him. **

**However, as Tuesday brings the resolution of the Mortal Instruments, I'm thinking I'm thinking of actually ending this whole story with the next chapter. Don't worry it will be a long one. **

**There aren't a lot of other great couples to interview, other than the Shadowhunters and the Downworlders together (I have an interesting idea for that), and an interesting way to get them all out of there. Not many of you noticed a particular new character introduced in CoA was in one of the previous chapters of this story.**

**I am fully aware that Jace would never actually 'Your mom' and 'That's what she said.' But, like I said before this story is meant to induce laughter.**

**And, I have deleted my Twilight stories, which were God-awful. YEAH!**

**Hope you liked this chapter.I'm very sorry about any inconsistency errors and typos. I've been typing for way too long. **

** I am hoping to get the next chapter out within the next two weeks. SOOOOOOOO (You see where Amelie came from? My deranged subconsciousness!) excited for Tuesday!!**


End file.
